I saw her plucking cowslips,
And marked her where she stood :  
She never knew I watches her  
While hiding in the wood.  

Her skirt was brightest crimson,  
And black her steeple hat,  
Her broomstick lay beside her –  
I’m positive of that.  

Her chin was sharp and pointed,  
Her eyes were – I don’t know –  
For, when she turned towards me –  
I though it best – to go!

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